


More Than I Should

by shiverelectric



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Vampires, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Risky Behavior, Sketchy People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19276267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiverelectric/pseuds/shiverelectric
Summary: “My name is Stiles,” he blurted out suddenly for lack of anything better to say. He started to cringe at himself, but the smile that spread across the other man’s face was worth the embarrassment.“Call me Peter,” the other man—Peter, offered. He swung a hand out to the stairs leading up, the other arm tucked neatly behind his back, cutting a look like an old fashioned gentlemen caller in one of the Bronte sisters novels. “Shall we?”





	More Than I Should

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my artist, Eccentric-ConsultingDetective for their inspiring art (https://eccentric-consultingdetective.tumblr.com/post/185724093724) and even going so far as to make the cover art for this a gif! This was a great challenge to undertake, even though my muse took a couple of detours to get to the end result, and I may revisit this in the future!

Stiles double checked the coordinates, but he knew he was at the right place. He pulled the jeep into one of the darkened parking spaces remaining at the edge of the lot and took a deep breath. As the son of the sheriff, he’s widely recognized by the locals of Beacon Hills, but in the industrial area of a neighboring town, especially one that had a middling college campus, he can be just yet another teen doing reckless things. And this was certainly reckless.

Hopping out from the jeep, he took in the look of the building. The factory office was nondescript in the way most are: boxy, gray, and though windows lined the walls of each floor, it still looked as if the inside would be dimly lit even at the height of day. Unremarkable and plain to behold from the outside. Except as he approached the back of the building, he could feel the heavy thump of music blaring from within, saw the silhouettes of bodies moving against the flashing of colored lights on the top floor.

Stiles zipped up his jacket a little, a matte black leather piece he’d found in a thrift store for this excursion, and tried to stuff his hands into pockets of tight jeans that only allowed enough space for the tips of his fingers. It wasn’t his usual look (plaid, loose fit, plaid, funny text paired with a graphic that makes the text funnier, _plaid_ ), but it was a style that would let him blend in.

“ID?” a gruff looking man guarding the back entrance demanded. Stiles nearly fumbled out his wallet, but recovered just in time to present ID proclaiming him to be the newly aged twenty-two years old _Mitch Stein_. The guy held the card for the longest minute of Stiles’ life, eyebrow cocked as his looked over Stiles himself, but his connections came through on yet another front when the guy just grunted and grabbed the door handle. If this kept up, he might have to treat Danny to the best restaurant in town. Well, maybe second best, Stiles wasn’t made of money, but it’s the thought that counts, surely.

His idle thoughts get interrupted as his ID was handed back and the door opened for him. Stiles shot the dude a nervous grin and walked into the dark hallway, but before he could turn and ask which way to go, the door closed behind him. With the music to guide him, louder still than outside but muted nonetheless by the floors separating him from the club upstairs, Stiles turned his phone light on and made his way further into the building.

Rounding the corner, he began to see subtle signs of direction like dropped plastic cups with spilled sticky liquids, even an errant condom which made him both shudder and think _huh_. Before long, he found two elevators near the front of the building, which in his opinion defeated the purpose of having the way into this place be from the back, but maybe it was all a part of the _atmosphere_ they were trying to create. Though one of the elevators had its doors locked open, exposing its dark insides, the other was clearly still in service, the numbers above it ticking back down to the ground floor before Stiles even had the chance to call it down.

Stiles rubbed his hands together, eager to be where the people were. It wasn’t his first time sneaking into a club, he and Scott had been to Jungle a couple of times already, but so had everyone else in school. At this point any underage kid with their older sibling’s ID was welcomed in. And though this was practically an open secret, it only took getting busted by his dad once before the queens themselves stepped in and banned him, at least until he turned eighteen. Apparently trying to persuade them to put him in drag to avoid his dad wasn’t the way to go about things, but here they all were on the matter.

And here was standing in front of the single working elevator that opened its doors to reveal a woman held up against the stainless steel walls, hands ending in long red nails gripping the railing and head thrown back in pleasure at the man pressed tight between bare thighs ending in expensive looking heels that crossed behind his back to hold him in place even better.

“Whoa-ho! Sorry, I’ll just, yeah, I’ll take the next one!” Stiles exclaimed as the doors began to close. “Shouldn’t be, you know, too long of a wait…” Before they fully shut, the woman’s eyes met his and a cold smile drew across lips that opened to laugh, either at him or the situation but Stiles knew which one his money was on. “Well, nothing like some light cardio before clubbing, I always say,” he muttered to himself as he headed for the stairwell.

Though the building still had power, the stairway was dim, only a couple strings of fairy lights dangling from various points illuminating spots of greens, blues, reds, and yellows the way up, so on came his phone’s light again. As he swung it upwards, a quick flash of red caught his eye from below, to stairs that led down as well. With a quick glance down into the lower part of the stairwell, he shone the light down onto two men.

One was middle aged and dressed plainly, probably a handyman given the tool belt around his waist, but he was being caged against the wall by the extended arm from a frankly stunning fellow. Everything about him was dark and distinct, from how he was sharply dressed in an almost inky black suit, Stiles even catching sight of a similarly dark button-up within the parting of his jacket, to swept back dark brown hair. It all contrasted beautifully with a lightly stubbled tan face that turned slightly in Stiles’ direction, eyes colored the blue of the depths of a deep pond frozen over in winter.

Stiles shivered and shook himself, getting too lost in his own mind again. And really, he hasn’t even made it upstairs before he’s run into two sets of couples and started fixating on someone both obviously out of his league and otherwise engaged. “Ah, sorry, just making my way up…” he trailed off as the man tilted his head, eyes focusing fully on Stiles.

“It’s not a problem,” the man said, voice smooth and almost light, and so, so charming. “I was just catching up with an old friend.” He turned his attention back for a moment to the other guy, who hadn’t moved at all during the whole interruption. He moved his outstretched hand to the guy’s shoulder, squeezing before patting him twice. “We’ll finish up later, yes?” Not waiting for a response, he started up the stairs towards Stiles. “May I accompany you?”

“Um,” Stiles gulped, not sure what was going on. Why would a stranger, a _hot_ stranger want to be seen with him? He would say his self-confidence needed work, but he knew what he was working with and most people were all too happy to avoid what he had to offer. Still, breaking the mold he found himself in was the point of this trip, so he pushed his suspicions aside.

“Yeah, sure, we can uh, share the light? Is it always kept so dark around here?” He waved his phone around, inadvertently flashing the man’s face. The lighting in the stairway was so fucked, a flash of deep crimson seemed to flare in his eyes before he could bring a hand up to shield himself from being temporarily blinded by Stiles’ flailing. The scrunched squint to his face smoothed back out into a smile once Stiles pointed the phone safely away from the immediate vicinity of his face. “Whoops, sorry, we can, yes, let’s go up!”

The man chuckled, a sound like good chocolate tastes, and _god if Stiles wasn’t so fucked and out of his depth_!

“It’s quite all right. In fact, once you get used to it,” he began as he stepped even closer to Stiles, presence seeming to fill all the available space around them even as he stood a scant few inches shorter, one hand coming up to rest softly on the hand Stiles was using to hold his phone, “you may find things seem clearer,” his other hand came up and cupped around the light, bringing them both into a deeper shadow, “in the dark.”

Stiles’ heart pounded a staccato in its haste to trip over itself, and he was sure his face was flushed that ruddy shade of red it became as he blushed. He’s pretty sure the color was on its way to staining his toes at this point as he realized the picture they painted, standing so intimately in the dark with hands near clasping, the phone’s light dimmed to candle flame strength beneath the stranger’s hand.

“That’s, okay, I can do that,” he finally managed to say to break the quiet they found themselves in, distant pulses of music seeming even further away. Taking a step back, he reluctantly pulled his hands free from the other man, whose very touch had sent gooseflesh rising up his arms. He quickly clicked off the light, and fiddled with the phone for a moment as the dark settled more firmly around them. “My name is Stiles,” he blurted out suddenly for lack of anything better to say. He started to cringe at himself, but the smile that spread across the other man’s face was worth the embarrassment.

“Call me Peter,” the other man—Peter, offered. He swung a hand out to the stairs leading up, the other arm tucked neatly behind his back, cutting a look like an old fashioned gentlemen caller in one of the Bronte sisters novels. “Shall we?”

Stiles nodded, a smile of excitement spreading across his face, growing even larger when he felt the firm touch of Peter’s hand against the small of his back as he started up the stairs. It’s not that Stiles has never been in this situation before (which he hasn’t), or even that he’s never had the possibly amorous attention of another ( _which he absolutely hasn’t_ ), he just didn’t think it would be as easy as just a change of scenery.

He remembers nights sitting with some of the queens between their sets, looking out at all the couples and soon-to-be couples on the dance floor or sneaking off to a private space somewhere and wishing he could maybe be one of them sometimes. The thought never crossed his mind as something to be pitied, and when he shared the sentiment with the queens, they gave him the advice that while he might not be the most popular now, when he hit college he could probably spend his entire semester not sleeping in his own bed.

He’s sure they meant it as a happy future for him to look forward to, but it didn’t help the loneliness that popped up every now and then. So, if his target audience for a good time is older, and he didn’t want to have to wait until his peers grew to recognize his appeal, he decided to take matters into his own hands and go where he could maybe be noticed for once.

Stiles just didn’t think it would take so little, but he wasn’t complaining! He just had to keep it together, stay cool, and most of all, not fuck it up. After all, given how close Peter was following beside him, and the guy still offered to stay in his presence after getting blinded, he’s probably not going to scare him off with his other quirks. Of course, that’s when his brain-to-mouth filter broke down like Roscoe and he began to babble again.

“So, do you come here often? This is my first time, I finally have a break in school to get out, see the scene, you know, relax.” He snaked a hand midair as if to simulate the slower pulses of brain waves, but at Peter’s cocked eyebrow, he quickly added, “College work, it can get stressful, gotta destress when I can.” Ugh, so much for keeping it cool.

“It’s quite fine, sweet boy, I admire your enthusiasm. I’m just in town for the night for some business before I return home.” His eyes sharpened, something predatory shuttering over them, there and gone before Stiles could pinpoint the emotion it held. “No, this is a little detour to, like you, take the edge off,” Peter smiled at him, as if whatever unpleasant thought that brought up had passed and was unimportant in light of current company, and Stiles took the chance to enjoy the ego boost the moment gave him.

“Cool, cool. I just heard about this place, all puzzles and ciphers to find the place, moving locations every so often between deserted buildings. Nothing like it in my home town,” Stiles offered as they rounded yet another flight of stairs. He mentally sent thanks to Finstock for all the endurance drills at lacrosse practice, otherwise he’d be even more out of breath than he was, though Peter in comparison seemed like he could climb steps for days. And from the sneak peek he had when he first stumbled upon him, Peter certainly had the ass like he walked ten flights of stairs daily.

Peter turned his head just in time to catch the quick glance Stiles sent his backside’s way. He chuckled as the blush Stiles thought was finally dying down flared back up again and asked, “And where do you call home, hmm?”

The door to the club loomed ahead, painted red and darkly inviting. Stiles walked ahead and leaned his back against it, quirking a coy smile at Peter, and said, “Well, I think I’d need to know you a little better before I told you that.”

Peter’s smile grew as he approached Stiles, placing a cool to the touch hand to his still burning red face. “My dear, ask of me anything you will, I think you’ll find I can be an open book.”

 

-,—,-

 

Stiles had first decided to visit the Elusive when he had heard the rumors of what kind of place it was. He’d heard it was a like a private club had a rave, and that the appeal of attending lay in both its exclusiveness and its exoticness. Some of the stories painted it almost like a sex club, and to a sixteen year old, especially one that felt so keenly the allure of being with people, he did what he had to in order to be able to have experiences like what was talked about only in whispers.

When he finally opened the door, the bass beat a pulse through Stiles’ body as lights flashed around the room. People danced and lounged against one another in equal measure, and in any other circumstances he would do his best to try to be one of them. But all of that fell by the wayside in light of Peter.

“Let’s have a seat at the bar,” Peter said, hand back in place on Stiles’ shoulder. “Then we can better get to know one another.”

The bar was makeshift, made of a couple long tables that cut through the room, separating the rest of the space from the pair of bartenders on the other side busy pulling oddly marked bottles from wooden crates. Stiles and Peter settled into two free chairs nearest the wall and waited for service.

“First things, what would you like to drink?” Peter asked as he raised a hand to draw the attention of one of the bar-hands.

Stiles thought about it for a moment, wondering if it was too juvenile to say sugary things, but what kind of impression would he make if he said otherwise and he coughed up a drink that cost more than the gas to get here?

“Something sweet,” he settled on being honest, hoping if it turned Peter off he’d at least get a nice drink out of it.

But Peter just took it in stride with a tilt of his head, ordering drinks Stiles had never heard of for the both of them. When it became apparent that he wasn’t gong to be carded again, Stiles cheered inwardly, _frickin’ score, things are coming up Stiles tonight!_ Within moments a short glass filled with a candy blue liquid complete with a tiny straw was placed in front of Stiles, while a ruby red drink was given to Peter.

“To new acquaintances,” Peter toasted him, the clink of the glasses lost amid the noise of the music. Stiles took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the sweetness that hid the sting of alcohol, then proceeded to swig more of it. Peter swirled his drink for a while, eyes focused on Stiles’ neck as he swallowed. “You have a very lovely throat,” he murmured, then tasted his own drink.

Stiles blinked, taken aback by the odd compliment. “All the better to drink,” he replied then awkwardly finished, “…you…with… Ugh.”

Peter laughed, crows feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes, his own thick neck arching back as chuckled, “You are something else. So sweet, so young.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m old enough,” Stiles bristled, backing down slightly at Peter’s raised eyebrow that seemed to taunt _oh really? prove it_ , “definitely old enough for this fine establishment.”

“It’s okay, sweet boy, I’ll believe you.” Peter’s eyes glanced over Stiles’ shoulder, another indecipherable look passing over his face before he added, “But I do suspect you’re a little out of place at this ‘fine establishment.’” Peter leaned closer to Stiles, eyes staring straight into his. “I’m not going to spoil your fun, but perhaps it would be a good idea to not stray too long in the dark, at least this time. Finish your drink, and let me walk you back to your car.”

Stiles had his reply on the tip of his tongue, that they had just gotten there and he didn’t even get a chance to dance with Peter, but it simply didn’t seem important to say anymore. Peter was right, it was long after midnight and he had a bit of a drive back. “Mmm, you’re right, let’s blow this popsicle stand!” he smiled and tossed back the rest of his drink, slamming the glass back to the table.

“Good boy,” Peter said as they stood to leave, putting an arm around Stiles’ shoulders as he looked out at the rest of the club. Stiles paid it no mind though, enjoying the solid feel of Peter’s body beside his. They made their way back down the stairs, opting to skip the elevator again ( _I wonder if that lady is still having a ball getting some on every level?_ he idly thought) and not seeing anyone else until they came across the bouncer at the back door again.

“See ya, dude! Best party ever!” Stiles called out as he began to lead the way to his jeep. “Man I feel good, what was that drink you got me?” he asked as he got out his keys.

Peter plucked the keys from his hands, unlocking the door for him. “Only something as sweet as you,” then with a devilish grin added, “moreover, just as virgin as you.” Stiles could feel his face blaze, caught between being mortified at the outlandish—but unfortunately true—accusation hurled at him, and curiosity at the motivations of the man in front of him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist myself,” Peter said, looking not an ounce apologetic as he ran a fingertip over the curve of Stiles’ red cheek. “You’re too much fun to tease.”

Stiles climbed into the driver’s seat and shook his head as he closed the door, then said boldly, “You know, you should come by sometime, maybe I can show you around my boring, slow little town.”

“Oh, have I finally earned the pleasure of that knowledge?” Peter asked as he propped an arm across the open car window, car keys dangling from his fingertips that Stiles plucked away as a smirk settled on his lips.

“Not yet,” Stiles decided, tilting his chin up as he gazed down at Peter. “But I’m sure you can think of someway to deserve it.” From his jacket he pulled out his phone to unlock it, and handed it to Peter. “Here, give me your number, maybe I’ll get you to arrange when you can entertain me with the stories of your _open book_.”

Laughing, Peter obliged, typing in his contact info as he said, “I’ll be sure to tell you only the most exciting tales.” When he handed the phone back, their fingers brushed, then Peter laid his hand fully over Stiles’ as he gazed into his eyes. “Be safe getting home, Stiles. I would hate to never see you again,” he added sincerely before turning and walking back to the building.

He may not have had the weekend he expected, but it was definitely a memorable one. Stiles smiled to himself as he turned the jeep on, yelling out the window, “Be seeing you, Peter!”

 

-,—,-

 

“Okay, Daddio! Dinner is ready!”

Even from the kitchen Stiles could hear the beginnings of grumblings from his dad as he heaved himself up from his armchair. Pulling a chair up to the table he continued, “You know kid, it’s hard work keeping this county safe, a man needs meat to stay strong…”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since we could eat together at home, sooo I thought we deserve lasagna tonight.” Stiles smiled to himself, nothing was changing his good mood from the weekend as he plated up his newest try at getting his dad to eat healthier. So what if his dad didn’t know it was meatless, the samples lady at the market swore this brand of tofu was indistinguishable in taste from beef. But judging from the way his dad lifted an eyebrow at his portion, maybe Stiles put too much faith in his ability to make it _look_ like real meat. Still, he dug in, staring at his dad until he did the same. “So pops, what’s the word on the street? Anything new happening around town I can help with?”

His dad pointedly finished his bite before he answered, unlike Stiles who had animatedly asked the question while chewing way too much of a mouthful. “Well, son, now that you ask, there has been some commotion lately you might be able to lend a hand with.”

Stiles dropped his fork in excitement as he leaned closer into the table, not believing his gambit finally paid off. “Yes! Absolutely, what are we looking at, a kidnapping? I can totally go undercover, wear a wire, maybe carry a gun, you know, for my safety. Or a drug deal gone bad? Oh! Is it a murder case—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, take a breath, geez kid,” his dad interrupted, hand raised halfway between physically stopping the word flow from Stiles’ mouth and sliding down his own face in regret for unleashing the flood in the first place. “First off, it’s none of those, no putting yourself in danger before you’re fifty and I’m in the ground. Secondly, old Mr Henderson is having trouble keeping his hedges trimmed and Mrs Gardner has been filling complaints since they spill over onto her property line, so I’ve volunteered you to head over with the shears to give him a hand.”

The smile the sheriff gave Stiles said M&Ms wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but Stiles knew the truth, not just about the smile since he himself pulled that same face whenever he convinced Scott to join him on some new hijinks, but _also_ about the M&Ms his dad kept in several hiding spots around the house and the station.

Just as he was about to lay into his dad and expose him for the sass, the ringtone for the sheriff’s department cut through the air, immediately sombering their mood. Stiles quieted down, picking at his food as he listened to his dad’s side of the phone call.

“Sheriff Stilinski,” his dad answered bluntly, knowing as well as Stiles did that only an emergency would have prompted them to interrupt one of his few days off. The situation must have been a bad one because he was instantly up, dinner left forgotten behind him. “Shit, yeah, I’m on my way, get the area cordoned off and start the canvas for any witness…” his voice trailed off as went up to his room to change.

Stiles sat for a while longer, weighing possibilities in his mind. Car accidents were unfortunately somewhat common, though a hit-and-run was also in the cards since witnesses were needed…

He let his thoughts idle on as he grabbed his dad’s unfinished plate and scraped the remainder into a plastic container for him to warm up later whenever he could grab a chance to eat. He’d just finished putting the rest of the leftovers away when his dad returned in full uniform.

“Alright kiddo, I don’t want you going out tonight,” his dad stated as he put the final snaps in place for his belt.

“Sure, yeah, not a problem, I’ve got a project I can work on.” Stiles leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed, and asked, “What's going on though?”

His dad finished adjusting his uniform and gave Stiles a stern look. “I’m going to tell you because I know you’ll get yourself into trouble trying to find out, but I’m serious when I say I don’t want you near this, okay?” Stiles nodded solemnly, and his dad continued, “A body was found—and no, I’m not telling you where—with pretty clear signs of homicide.”

Stiles frowned at the information. Nothing crazy like a homicide had happened in Beacon Hills in years, over ten if he remembered correctly about when the mansion in the preserve burned ( _arson_ , the official reports stated, but his dad, and himself over the years, never quite believed the evidence).

“That’s horrible, dad,” Stiles said. “Do you think you’ll find the guy that did it?”

“I don’t know, son. The preliminary info is, disturbing. Now, you know the drill, lock the doors, don’t let anyone you don’t know in—“

“—Don’t let anyone in, yeah, I got it dad,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “I’m not twelve anymore.”

His dad came close and enveloped him in a hug. “No, but you are still my kid, and I know you,” he replied with a scuff to the top of Stiles’ head. With a final squeeze, he released Stiles and added, “And I love you. I don’t know when I’ll be back, just, be good and try to stay out of trouble, if you could while some maniac is running around my town.”

Stiles closed the door behind his dad as the cruiser pulled out of the driveway with the lights flashing, giving his dad a final wave through the window. Turning to face the empty living room, Stiles let out a sigh. It never got any easier seeing his dad hare off towards danger to protect the people of the county. To protect him.

He ran a hand through his hair and headed to the kitchen to clean up. The best thing he could do right now was keep his mind preoccupied with other things, otherwise worry for his dad was likely to put him into a cycle of anxiety and anxiousness he’d rather avoid if he could. And since finishing dinner was literally off the table for both him and his dad, he started with putting all the leftovers away, and preparing a few simple meals he could take to his dad at some point during the week while he was at work. If there was one thing he inherited from his father, it was the ability to get single-mindedly focused on something to the exclusion of even eating well, so he did his part in making sure his dad would have at least something to tide him over during the investigation.

Kitchen put in order, Stiles double-checked the first floor according to the plan that his parents brought him up with ever since he was a child. He may not be a kid anymore, but going through the motions of making sure the doors and windows were locked was soothing, and reminded him of all the times his parents helped him get the routine down. All in all, the whole thing was only the work of minutes, so up to his room he retired for the night.

The first thing he noticed when he entered his room was how dark it was, since he tended to leave his lamp on when night fell so he, himself, wouldn’t fall over anything on the floor.

Second, there was a chill in the air from his window being open. Stiles’ hackles instantly went up, because he knew he didn’t leave his window open, especially with the nip of winter just around the seasonal corner.

He reached out and flicked on the room’s light, seeing if anything was further amiss in the room, taking in anything that looked out of place or altogether missing. He didn’t see any other immediate signs of intrusion, but when he went to sit on his bed, he noticed a pale roll of paper, slipped beneath his pillow.

He choked down his first reaction to shout out _what the fuck_ , because obviously someone had been in his home, _in his room_ even, and if they were still around he didn’t want to alert them to knowing he knew about them. Instead, he gingerly pulled the paper free, taking in the precisely drawn geometric design on the outside of the scroll. He hesitated in opening it, thinking about it as evidence and how best to preserve any prints or residue that may be on it, but then he shook his head and took a breath. No one was coming after him, he was the sheriff’s kid, and as far as he knew no bad guys his dad had helped put away were released recently, so it wasn’t likely someone was targeting him for revenge. In fact, it was more likely some prank pulled by Scott or someone else Stiles knew from school.

Scoffing at his paranoia, he unrolled the scroll to read what was inside, which was…blank. He flipped it back to the other side, and that design seemed to be the only thing on the paper. So, it was a complete mystery to Stiles what it all meant. Who would break into the house of the sheriff to leave his son a puzzling design under his pillow?

Stiles tossed it onto his bedside table, already exhausted from the roller coaster of events he went through tonight, first his dad going out to solve a murder and now some weird thing for him to solve…

He quickly turned around to grab the note back up, because that’s what it must be, right? It would make no sense to be there if it weren’t something he was meant to figure out. But the design wasn’t like any puzzle he’d come across before, not even when figuring out how to get to Elusive…

That brought him to another train of thought, a niggling feeling he couldn’t quite explain. Scroll in hand, he walked slowly back to the light switch, and with one hand he cast the room back into darkness.

And there, so faintly as to be overlooked if someone didn’t know to look for it, certain lines of the design lit up, the very ink itself having charged in the light but only to be revealed in the dark. Because sometimes, _things seem clearer in the dark_.

Stiles’ heart kicked up and his mind went into overdrive. It shouldn’t have been possible, but what was this note if not proof of something that shouldn’t have happened?

Grabbing a pen and piece of paper, Stiles quickly copied the lines of the design that were visible but quickly fading in the dark. When he finished, he turned a lamp on to look over the final image he’d copied, only some of the lines and shapes from the original design being highlighted. With his mind going off on many different tracks, he began his analysis.

If there were one upside to this situation, he mused groggily several hours and several cups of coffee later, it was that it kept his mind handily off the danger his dad might have been in. Still, he could have done without the breaking and entering, and the quite frankly mindfuck of a night he had to endure to try to solve whatever clue he was given. He finally resorted to tracing the lines and counting intersections as a way to help reset his brain…

Except as he did that, he noticed there was a pattern that emerged, not one he was too accustomed with, but ask any kid with attention problems and they can tell you of at least one time they’ve run their fingers over unfamiliar bumps. Flicking through internet searches as fast as he could, he settled on the hidden design reading _9780786444526_ , which was an odd collection of numbers.

But as he idly thought about what it could refer to, he thought back over his interactions with Peter. On a hunch, he did a search for the numbers with the term book, and—holy shit.

This…required further research.


End file.
